Smog and crowds and laws were claustrophobic.
The caravan pulled over to take a lunch break and to stretch our legs. The commune was still a day’s drive. I would send mom a postcard before we arrived. She worried too much. I was 18 now and perfectly capable of making my own decisions. There was much more to life than rules and societal restrictions. I was determined to be free; to be myself, to love, to enjoy nature and to survive without the city’s oppressive ways. Smog and crowds and laws were claustrophobic. She would do well with a bit of fresh air and free love herself.
– Written for Splickety Publishing Group Bolt Flash Fiction: Strike 37 Photo Prompt. WC 100
Image was provided through Splickety from Creative Commons.
Leaves fall and sweet death is beautiful but temporary.
Today is a hot day but not nearly as hot as yesterday. I’m waiting for a cool breeze to signal it’s time to change. Change is easy but not. You have to pay close attention when the wind blows or it’s easy to miss. Leaves fall and sweet death is beautiful but temporary. When they cover the ground like a soft blanket, it is inviting but not so soft. The sun reflects off the windowpane and the glare disrupts my view but it is only temporary. The cloud cover makes it clear and I see a man with an umbrella but there is no rain. He walks, dragging his feet through the various colors but not noticing, nor does he notice my gaze. I wonder what he thinks of the weather today. A rustling in the tree above draws my attention. A bird calls. The sun and the man and the bird do what they do and do not bother to stop because I see. Today is a hot day but not as hot as tomorrow unless it changes.
– WC 179